The Always Tempting Tempest
by Paige Louise Jordan
Summary: After becoming friends with Peeta, Tempest wants more from their relationship. During the 74th annual Hunger Games Peeta falls in love with Katniss, and Tempest will do anything to get will Peeta and have Katniss out of the story.
1. The Train

**Thanks for checking out this story! My first book related fanfiction and I really hope you all like it! AND ; I am a PeetaKatniss fan. ;))**

"A soldier will fight long and hard for a bit of colored ribbon", Napoleon Bonaparte once said. Strange, that's how things have been going for the past 73 years, except instead of a ribbon it's for a money bath. And up until last year there was one sole motive. Living. The 74th year of this event was the strangest yet. Love. Love was the motivation. Katniss and Peeta. Katniss. She was the bane of my existence. Sure, Marvel was muscular and Thresh was heartwarming, but Peeta was breathtakingly handsome in every aspect of the word. He was all I desired, and the bitch, Katniss was taking him away from me.

I had known Peeta since we were little kids.I was 9 and Peeta was 10 We first met when we were on the same train to district one to receive medical care. I had an awful case of pneumonia and he had a strange abscess in his neck that was slowly killing him. My mom felt sympathy for him and allowed me to play with him for the time my brother Cato, who was 11 years old at the time, frowned upon my choice in playmates.

"So, what do you like to play?" I asked, sitting next to Peeta, who was drawing a picture.

He looked up, "Cops and Robbers. What about you?"

"I like Cops and Robbers, too," I replied tenderly. "Can I draw with you?"

He studied me for a brief moment before deciding to hand me a piece of paper.

"Thanks," I said, grabbing a marker. "What's your name, again?" I asked, for clarification.

"Peeta," he said, grabbing a blue marker. He carefully uncapped the marker and gracefully drew waves. All varying in shape, length and darkness. I hadn't realized then how amazing of an artist he was. His works, even then, were completely captivating. "What about yours?"

"Tempest," I said. "Can I get the blue marker?"

He handed it to me. "That's a cool name."

"Thanks," I drew a sky. With big, fluffy clouds. Big friendly clouds. Something inviting and warm to keep me calm the rest of the train ride.

Peeta and I talked. We talked about dogs, our favorite food, and our least favorite part about taking trips to the hospital. His was the long trips and mine was the blood drawing.

Our first day had come to an end, and the sun fell behind the big clouds. I fell asleep within hours of sundown and so did Peeta.

At 9 am, the sun had shown itself, bright, beautiful and jubilant. Peeta slept across from me with his mom. He wasn't up yet, no one was, but me. I noticed how bright his blonde hair was in the early sunrise, how it brought optimism. I saw a crack in his eyes. I quickly closed mine.

"It's okay," he whispered.

I pondered reopening my eyes. I couldn't resist, I peered through the cracks of my eyes. "Hi," I whispered softly.

"Tempest, I want to go do something," he said, slowly sitting up.

"What?" I asked curiously. What else was there to do on this train?

He got off the bench and walked to me. "Just trust me," he whispered quietly. Peeta offered his hand to me. I slowly, but gently grabbed his hand. He tugged at my arm and pulled me off the bench. We went out the door and down to the right. We walked through Pullman's Castles and to the back of the train. I was getting nervous. I had never been on a train before and venturing away from my mother made my knees weak.

"Where are we going?" I asked, realizing we had reached the end of the train. It was all cleaning supplies and spare parts. "Wait, let me rephrase that, what are we doing?"

"We're going to...," he paused, and shoved a few things out of the way. Peeta revealed one of the biggest windows I had ever seen. "... Look."

I strolled closer to the window where Peeta stood. "Wow," I gasped. The sights were breathtaking. I loved the way the tree branches, dotted with dew, glimmered in the early morning sun. The cab was cold and smelled of metal and mold, but, there couldn't have been a more perfect morning. Peeta nudged me.

"Look!" he shouted, excitedly, his index finger firmly pointed at a group of deer. "I know a girl, from my district, she loves to hunt. Her name is Katniss."

"She sounds..." I paused. "Weird. Hunting? Doesn't she play with hair or dolls like me and my friends?"

"I guess she does, I don't really know her. But she's super smart and a good singer," he looked at me. "Do you have any talents?"

"I'm good at throwing knives, I know that's not what normal girls do, but my mom wants me to be prepared for the Hunger Games," I said, looking at Peeta.

Peeta lost control, he turned me around and pulled my left arm behind my back, tightly. He used his body to press mine against the wall. I coughed. I was gasping for air. I thought I was going to die. I started crying. My coughing fits became more powerful and my tears began to run like a river. He gave me a look of remorse and let me go. I fell down and put my head between my knees. I felt Peeta began to back away from me. I sat there for a moment before looking up to study the scene around me. Peeta was curled up in the corner. I had a small, but powerful coughing fit before I stood up to talk to Peeta.

"Hey Peeta," I said, approaching him calmly, suppressing a cough. He curled tighter. "It's okay Peeta, what's bothering you?"

He looked up, his eyes were puffy and there were apparent tear tracks. I was shocked. Such a hardass little kid should never be seen crying, yet here we were, both of us, with tears on our face. "My older sister, Adalina, she was in the Hunger Games, and..." he paused. I patted his back.

"It's okay," I whispered, hugging him.

Just then, in stormed two very upset parents. My mom pulled me away from Peeta and back to our Pullman. There waited Cato who had a sick smirk on his face. He must have been up when Peeta and I left. I felt foolish and betrayed. Shortly after I arrived back, Peeta and his mom came back.

"Don't you ever do that again," my mother said to me. She continued to talk as my eyes wandered and met Peeta's eyes. He was also being yelled at by his witch of a mother. I smiled.


	2. Cato

"If it's natural to kill, how come men have to go into training to learn how?" Joan Baez questioned, I wonder that myself. I'd really like to know why. But we have the Hunger Games and we find out the sad truth behind both parts of this statement. We find children who have never hurt a fly, killing other in order just to see another sunrise. Then there is my group of people, those of Districts One and Two receive special training, which almost always means a guaranteed win for one of the four tributes.

It was the day of the 74th annual reaping. I dressed myself in the very best I owned. My very best happened to be my favorite dress, it was shorter, a baby pink with black, tiny polka dots all over it. Fairly tame from what I see around me. I had made the dress myself. When I was about 12, I went through this phase where I had to sew ALL of my clothes. And 4 years later, I can still manage to make a beautiful dress.

After being huddled together with my peers by peacekeepers, the reaping began. As always, ladies first. My heart started to pound as the tiny sheet of paper was lifted out from the bowl. My name was in there 5 times. I shouldn't have to worry... right? I was going to worry anyways. I couldn't leave my life. I was comfortable where I was. The paper was open. Out poured the name Clove Abendessen. She was a year older than me and we went to school together. She was vicious, even in school. If she didn't like you, she spat at your feet in the hallway. And there was nothing you could do about it. Her mom was the superintendent of the school She could do whatever she wanted and no one could tell her otherwise.

Next were the boys. They didn't even have to draw any names, from among the older boys walked my brother. I panicked. That couldn't be happening. I knew it was an honor to volunteer, but there are plenty of other boys who could have volunteered. Not my idol, not my hero.

I stumbled through the girls. "Cato!" I shouted at the top of my lungs.

He turned around and smiled. "It's my time to shine," he said, walking up to the stage.

"Cato! You're making a huge mistake!" But he didn't listen, he kept walking. "Cato!" I shouted once more, my voice cracking. Two piece keepers approached me.

"Ma'am, plea..." one said, grabbing my arm.

I cut him off. "Let me stand here, I won't do anything stupid," I said, emphasizing stupid and glaring at the one who had my arm. He took a long moment to study me and let me go. I turned around just as I saw Clove and Cato shake hands. I felt my face get hot and my eyes stung.

_No. No. No. _

Before I knew it, they were both ushered by peacekeepers into the building. The two were sent away and I ran up to the building. The door shut right in my face. I tugged and pulled on the door. A peacekeeper came up to me.

"Calm down ma'am. They'll let you in, in a moment," he said, pulling me away.

I fought him as he grabbed me by the arms and pulled me away. I screamed at the top of my lungs, tears slipping from my eyes, down my cheeks and into my mouth. The salty tear brought me back to reality, and so did the push the peacekeeper gave me as he let me go. I fell onto my hands. My wrists ached now. Slowly let up, and laid on my side, right on the stage. Just as I did, the door opened. I quickly ran in and found the room Cato was in.

I forcefully pushed the door open

"Cato!" I shouted, running over and hugging him.

He embraced me tightly. "Tempest," he whispered, his voice quiet but filled with regret.

"I love you so much, I don't want you to go, please!" I begged, into his shoulder, my tears being soaked up by his nice shirt I had sewn for him.

"I don't want my last image of you, for now, to be sad, smile Tempest, I'll be back again," he said, smiling. He let me go and took out a knife. He held it in his hand so gently and allowed for the sun to reflect off it in the late afternoon sunlight. He grabbed a part of his shirt and cut it off.

"Cato," I said, upset he had cut the nice shirt I had spent almost a month making.

He hushed me and wiped my tears with it. I was confused. He then placed it ever so gently in my pocket on my dress. "Hold it close whenever you miss me," he said, kissing my forehead.

"I love you, so much Cato, you better come home," I said, trying not to cry.

"Take good care of mom and grandma," he said. We hugged one last time.

"Let's go," said the peacekeeper, pulling me away.

"Take care, Cato," I said, trying to be strong. "I love you."

"I love you too, little Tempest," he said.

I was pulled back out to where the reaping was held. I tenderly pulled the sheet of material from my pocket and held it close to my face. It still smelled like him. All I wanted to do at this point was to vomit. I wasn't even away from him for five seconds before I started to miss him. I didn't know how I was going to tell my mother that Cato was gone and even worse, had volunteered for it. It was suppose to be an honor, but I felt it not to be.

I held my head up high and walked home from the stage. It wasn't a terribly long walk. Only about a mile. As I approached the humble abode I was proud to call my home, I couldn't think of what to say. It's almost as if I had forgotten how to speak. I took a deep breath and walked in.

"Hey mom, grandma," I greeted them.

"Hello Tempest," my sweet grandma greeted me. "How was the reaping?" she asked.

My small grin quickly changed to stoic face. "Uh...Cato...He..."

My mom came up to me. "You let him volunteer!" she shouted.

"I couldn't control him! Mom! You know how the reapings work! I had no control!" I shouted back.

She approached me and got close to my face. "Now how will we live?" she asked in a low voice.

"We'll find a way. I promise," I said, hugging her.

"I don't need any of your sympathy, get out of my face, Tempest," she said.

I gave her a final look and ran out the front door. I ran as far as I could from my home. I wanted to leave my life in the dust and find Peeta.

I found a small part of District Two that was hardly been touched. It was a large meadow . I ran to the middle, threw my body against the ground and cried. I cried for Cato. I cried for my mother and grandmother. It was going to be a tough few weeks.


	3. Jester Lucroy

"If we don't end war, war will end us." H.G. Wells once pointed out. If only the leaders at the Capitol would listen. It's tough being in District Two and suffering the fate of losing a brother to the Hunger Games, but I must be tough in Peeta's District. He was somehow on my mind at that moment. I had to wonder how he was holding up... I wonder if he was suffering from unbelievable sadness, like me... Probably not.

I laid in the meadow, listening to the birds chirp and bugs buzz. It was all calm, until I heard heavy footsteps, running. I carefully lifted my head to see a man, running and he was headed right for me.

"Whoa!" I shouted.

He stopped and looked down at me. "I am so not having it today."

I patted in the area next to me. "Neither am I. Sit down," I said.

"Jester Lucroy," he offered his hand to shake.

I uneasily took it. "Tempest Billette," I shook.

"It's a pleasure. So what brings you to this..," he paused. "Meadow of Anguish?"

"My brother volunteered himself for the reaping. And my mother did NOT handle it well. I mean, she flipped," I said, sighing.

"Don't worry, My girlfriend just threatened to kill me, so..."

I looked at him, shocked. Who would want to harm such a seemingly innocent man? "Why?" I inquired, innocently.

"Because she wants me to raise a baby that's not even mine. I would. But there is the Hunger Games, and I don't want to get attached to a child in the era," he said, sighing also.

I gave him a final glance and laid myself back down, staring at the clear blue sky. Children. I couldn't blame him. When I was 10 years old, I always dreamed of having kids, but as soon as I turned 12, reality hit me in the face like a brick wall. The Hunger Games were not avoidable. Maybe one day, people could reproduce in peace, without the constant worry of their kids being choose to take part in a murder orgy. It was a horrifying world.

"Was your brother Cato?" he asked me.

I turned my head to the left, where Jester was sitting, "Yes, why?"

"Just asking," he said, lying next to me. "I would have never volunteered, even if my life depended on it."

"I agree, but, it was his choice," I continued, looking back up into the sky. Over the meadow flew a large flock of birds.

"I heard in District 12, there was a girl who was chosen, but her older sister volunteered herself, just so her sister wouldn't have to experience the horror of the Games. I'd say that's love, I think her name was Katniss Everdeen, if I am not mistaken," he said.

"Who was the boy?" I asked, trying not to panic.

"Peeta Mellark...yeah, Peeta Mellark," he said, trying to remember.

I sat there for a moment in complete silence. I began to worry for him. I worried for Cato. One of them would have kill the other. I couldn't bear to lose either of them. My brother or the boy that I was madly in love with. My eyes began to water and a tear slipped down my left cheek.

I never noticed Jester looking at me. I felt his little, but muscular hands on my face, wiping away my tear.

"What's bothering you?" he asked quietly.

I thought about the future a little bit more and sniffled and began to sob. I was going to lose someone I deeply cared about, whether I liked it or not. I most CERTAINLY not having it that day.

"My brother and this boy I have been friends with since I was a little kid, they're both in the Games, I think I want to die," I spat out.

He looked at me with kindness in his eyes and caring in his heart. My mother always warned me not to give strangers the benefit of the doubt, and I always listened to that rule, except now, my life was breaking into pieces right before my eyes and I had no one to reach out to, except for this kind young man named Jester Lucroy. I leaned over and hugged him and sobbed into his shirt. There was no other shoulder to cry on other than his. And he seemed to actually care.

He seemed shocked at first, but he began to relax and embrace me, gently. A hug was what I needed at that moment.

"How old are you?" I asked, into his chest.

"22," he said, "What about you?"

I backed away.

"What?" he asked, studying me.

"16," I mumbled.

"So?"

"Isn't that weird?" I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders, "Maybe to some, I don't think so. Nothing has been right since the war..."

I gave him a glare, but I couldn't have agreed more. I wish things were normal. Or at least what I imagined as normal. My grandma lived through the war, she forgot most of it, but she occasionally tells stories of her life before all hell broke lose. Everything seemed so simple, and peaceful. Except for the government, that is. But when is the government the problem?

"Maybe it's not..." I agreed. "I just don't know what to do. I never do. I take life as it happens, and sometimes, it ends up burning me. And it sucks. But I don't have any other way to live my life at this point in time. The Games, they keep ruining stuff," I said.

Jester laughed. "The Games."

I picked at some grass between him and I. "What's so funny?" I asked.

"The Games. They're still happening because the people down at the Capitol can't get enough of the murderous teenager look. 'Hey, Tempest, Murder looks good on you'! No. That's wrong on so many levels," he commented, sarcasm lingering in his voice.

I stifled a laugh, but it was funny. I wanted to burst out laughing, because he was so right, but I had just met him, but I couldn't do it. "Do you want to come over for dinner?" he asked, completely out of the blue.

"I guess..." I paused. _Well, mother is always right, right? No. _"Yes. I'd love to."

"Great," he said, grabbing my arm and pulling me out of the meadow. It felt good to be around someone new. Someone completely different than my friends and family.

We ran through the city square and down a lonely, isolated country type road. I had only read about them in the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. And she was centuries before us. It was calm, quiet and made me very happy. His house was tiny, but easy to enjoy. His life suddenly suddenly seemed irresistible.

"I hope you don't mind, I still live with my mom, but she's an excellent cook," he said, wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

"I love homecooking, my grandma used to cook all the time," I said, walking in the front door. "But she has alzheimers of sorts and can't remember simple stuff..."

"Don't worry," he said.

Out from behind a wall came his sweet, older - looking mother. "Hello Jester," she said hugging him.

I grabbed my wrist from behind and smiled kindly.

"Oh, mom, this is Tempest Billette," he said, gesturing at me.

His mother had a look of disgust written all over it. She pulled away Jester. "Another girl? When will you stop this insanity and settle down with Kayleen?" she whispered, expecting me not to overhear.

"Please mom," he said, walking to me. "Don't worry about my mom, she's more, traditional than me," he said.

I nodded and he ushered me into the kitchen loaded with food. His mom, glared at me, as she set a plate in front of me.

"So, your mom is Tallon Billette, huh? How is she? Still bossy, controlling and evil as usual?" she asked, stabbing the little duck on the table. She cut herself a small piece and smiled.


End file.
